Warner sighed, the weight of her office falling on her all at once. There were times that she seemed surrounded by men who didn’t want to listen. During times like these she asked herself, “what would a man do?” and the answer was usually the same. A man would take charge and give orders. Even Iron Jaisal Warner would rather build a consensus, which was why she asked her subordinates for their honest opinions, and all she received was conflict and resistance. Especially in this case.
There was something about Pacino she liked. It was a presence, a certainty he had. He focused on the issues, not the politics, not the possible political gains he could make. Other than Dick Donchez, he alone in her administration was like that. It added up to something she hadn’t sensed in a long time, and it was almost hard to admit it, but when Pacino was in the room offering a blunt opinion, Warner felt safe. Yes, safe, that was exactly the word she had been searching for. There was something about the young looking but white-haired admiral that reminded her of her own father, a New York City policeman, a street cop. It was elemental, naked, a certain fearlessness her father had had. In his career he had been forced to shoot two criminals, both times exonerated by the boards of review. She had known he had felt terrible about it, but it made her love him all the more, because when he was around, no one could hurt her. Her father shot criminals, he made the streets safe.
And there was that quality in Pacino. He was something of a world cop, making the hostile seas safe, making her job safe. He would not fall to Tony Wadsworth’sax. She took a deep breath.
“Admiral Wadsworth, about Admiral Pacino… I want you to make damned sure you don’t lose Admiral Pacino. He has a good head. I like his style. This administration has plans to promote him, whether it means demoting or retiring certain other naval officers. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t want to hear that you’ve put him in charge of paper clips in Guam.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I want a position paper from you addressing Admiral Pacino’s memo in detail, saying exactly why you believe he is incorrect. If you still do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I want you to send Pacino a message, and I want you to copy me on it. This message will go out within the hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It will read that Pacino has full authority with respect to his submarines to pursue the best possible resolution of this crisis. He is to work with the commanders of your surface battle groups, but he will also be independent and of equal operational rank.”
“Ma’am, you’d have to promote him to vice-admiral to do that, and that can’t be done without congressional confirmation.”
“Then put a recommendation on my desk for his promotion. I’ll take care of the rest. And another thing,
Tony. Stay out there for the duration of your planned trip. I don’t want the world to see us running around looking panicked, especially with this upcoming action off of Japan.”
“But ma’am—”
“No buts. Tony. You’re staying. Pacino is to have the authority I have prescribed. Understand?”
“Yes, Madam President.” She wondered, as she cut off the videolink, whether he did.
Pacino looked up as Murphy and McDonne came in the room. Their serious faces indicated the authenticators had shocked them into the awareness that this was no longer one endless drill, that the filmy boundary between peacetime and wartime had just been crossed.
Murphy held up the authenticator, so that both he and McDonne had it in sight at all times, since the little foil packet was so secret it was under two-man-control.
Never in its lifetime, from printing to destruction, would an authenticator be under the control of one man alone.
And for good reason, since one man with an authentica-for could start an all-out war. Once Pacino set Defcon two, not a single unit of his sub force would listen to him or follow his orders without a valid authenticator. Murphy held out the authenticator packet, the size of an Alka Seltzer foil container, and put it in front of Pacino. “Sir, it reads as authenticator number bravo five echo.” The name of the authenticator matched the one they had described in the subject area of the message to the fleet. “Very well,” Pacino said. “Open the authenticator.”
“Open the authenticator, aye, sir,” Murphy said, opening the packet. A simple piece of cardboard was inside with the code “XC83JOEM” written in block letters. “Sir, authenticator reads x-ray, charlie, eight, three, Juliet, oscar, echo, mike.”
“Very well,” Pacino said, “insert the code into the message, verify it and transmit.” It took some time to get the message out. The men reassembled in the seating area. “Sir,” Murphy said, “we’ve got as priorities getting you to sea, getting Piranha to sea, setting Defcon three. And then what?”
